


The aesthetics of the fall

by keerawa



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Drug Addiction, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Episode Tag, Gen, Identity Issues, POV First Person, Season 3 Finale, Season/Series 03-04 Hiatus, Watson's Woes July Writing Prompts 2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-08-01
Packaged: 2018-04-12 08:20:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4472120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keerawa/pseuds/keerawa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Father always could see right through me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The aesthetics of the fall

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [](http://watsons-woes.livejournal.com/profile)[watsons_woes](http://watsons-woes.livejournal.com/) JWP Prompt 2015 #31: Putting on a Show. The title is taken from The Theatrical Firearms Handbook by Kevin Inouye. Episode tag to the season 3 finale, 'A Controlled Descent.' Unbeta'd.
> 
>  **Warnings:** Potential triggers include mention of drug use and addiction, as well as implications of emotional abuse.

I'm relieved when Watson walks away. Her relentless compassion and concern are wearying. I find myself unable to move or speak in her presence; an actor failing to improvise on a familiar role in a situation where none of my memorized lines apply.

Were I to open my mouth, I've no idea what words might come out.

First Watson, then Kitty Winters. Perhaps it was never a protégé I needed, so much as an audience to gasp and thrill and applaud my performance as Sherlock Holmes, eccentric genius detective.

Eccentricity is the key. Attempts in my youth proved that even the appearance of normality was beyond me. Father provided the necessary wealth, but made it clear that the line between eccentricity and insanity was a fine one, and only indisputable competency in my endeavours would keep me the right side of it.

I've done well for myself. Established my independence here in New York. Achieved a high degree of satisfaction in my life, both personally and professionally. Excelled in my field.

Not that father will see it that way.

Oscar Rankin certainly didn't. The Sherlock Holmes he knew was a very different animal, indeed. A violent, unstable addict.

Was he wrong? No. Demonstrably, no. The rebound effects of heroin are evident in my body; restlessness, depression, cravings. Such cravings. I've not slept in four days.

The mute testimony of Oscar's body is perhaps even more telling.

Yet Watson is not wrong. I solved the case. Alfredo is safe.

I am both. I can be both. I may be neither.

A bee lands on my hand. I curb an addict's twitch so that I might study this specimen of _Euglassia watsonia_. It crawls across my hand, tasting. I wonder if the bee can sense the chemical imbalance in my body, the sticky sweat, the exhaustion and anxiety. Soon it will report back to the hive.

The queen has no expectations of my genius, my sobriety, or my morality. She is a perfectly impartial observer. And so she is the only fit audience for me tonight.

Tomorrow Father will arrive. I know what he will see, when he looks at me. The question is, who will I see? Who will I be? I must decide, and armour myself in that identity, if I am to survive his visit.

Perhaps I'll be able to get a few hours sleep before I have to face him in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my final entry for the Watson's Woes July Writing Prompts challenge. I managed to write and post a fic every day, and either met or was just a few minutes past each 24-hour deadline. Many thanks to all of the people who commented and left kudos - you inspired me to keep writing!


End file.
